Eyre House

by Caitlin Greer

  “Wake up, Gin. I think we need to head out front.”

  She picked her head up and listened for a moment. “Shit. I don’t want to deal with him today.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to throw your mother to the wolf. She’s been through enough.”

  Ginny groaned but pushed herself up and then helped me stand. I was glad to see Ben standing beside Ms. Catherine when we came around. None of us were happy to see Ginny’s dad. Or happy to hear him screaming.

  “…didn’t even bother to call me!”

  “She’s fine, Jonathan. You see? If she wanted you to know, she’d have called you herself.”

  “This is unacceptable, Catherine!” Drayton dug in his car and pulled out a sheaf of papers and shoved them at her. “I told you I’d take Eyre House.”

  “What did you do, Jonathan?”

  “I’m in the process of buying your mortgage. And when I’m done, I’ll evict you. You should never have used it as collateral for bail.”

  Ms. Catherine tossed the papers to the ground. “Like hell you are, you bastard!”

  “You can’t pay it off, so yes, I am! This, Catherine, is what you get for challenging me, for kicking me out and turning my own daughter against me!”

  “Ginny,” I whispered as they continued to argue. “Let me see those.”

  She bent down and handed them to me. The legalese was too complicated for me to follow, but I didn’t care about any of that. All I wanted was a number. I looked up at Ginny and smiled.

  “What?”

  I just winked and pushed in-between Ms. Catherine and Drayton. Ms. Catherine cut herself off mid-word, but Drayton glared daggers at me.

  “You. I have nothing to say to you.” He glanced at my sling with a smirk. “You can’t even muscle me around.”

  I smiled. “No, I’ll leave that to Ben.” I shoved his papers back into his chest. “What I am going to do is tell you to kiss this place and your hopes for your big fancy hotel goodbye. You won’t get the mortgage, and you won’t get Eyre House.”

  “You think some stupid fuck from the orphan track is going to stop me?”

  “No. But I’m not some orphan.” I stepped in closer, pushing every inch I had on him. “My name is Evan James Fairfax Rochester of Savannah, heir to both the Rochester and Fairfax houses and adopted son to Emmaline and Xander Rivers. The mortgage on Eyre House isn’t even a drop in the bucket of either one of my trust funds. One phone call to my lawyers, and it’s mine. So go ahead, Drayton. Push me. I dare you.”

  If looks could kill, I think I’d have burst into flames. But looking was all Drayton could do, and he knew it. He had nothing.

  He spun on his heel with an angry glare and climbed back into his Bentley. Nobody made a noise until it disappeared down the drive. Then everyone let loose with a scream. Ginny pulled me in for a kiss that was borderline obscene, considering her mother was standing right behind us. I didn’t give a damn.

  “Lord today, Evan. What in hell? When were you going to tell me?” She kissed me again before I could answer.

  I laughed. “What—that I’m apparently stupidly rich?”

  “Well, yeah!”

  “It hadn’t come up. We’ve been just a little busy. But while we’re on the subject, my family would really like to meet you. How do you feel about a road trip?”

  Ginny froze. “Are you sure? I mean, I know Mama knows them, but Evan, honey… You just met them.”

  “And I spent the entire time thinking about you. Yes, I’m sure. Come meet them. Please.”

  She kissed me again, slower this time, achingly deliberate. It left me gasping for breath when she pulled away.

  “So is that a yes?”

  Ginny threw her head back and laughed, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

  “Yes, Mr. Rochester. I would love to come meet your family.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ginny pulled the keys out of her ignition and fidgeted with them until I covered her hand. With my arm still in a sling, we’d had to drive her Jeep down to Savannah, rather than my bike. Just as well, since it was raining again.

  “They’ll love you, Ginny. They already do. They know your mother, remember?”

  “But what if they don’t?”

  “They will. I promise.”

  I kissed her until she smiled and then got out to open her door. My left arm was still immobilized, but I was figuring out how to make it work.

  Ginny had been so nervous that she’d insisted on dressing up. I handed her out of the Jeep with another appreciative look. The ivory linen dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and the bruising on her face had almost faded.

  “Lord, you’re gorgeous. You know that?”

  She leaned in close and kissed me as she opened the umbrella. “You’re not so bad yourself, sugar.”

  Since all my nice clothes had been left behind when I’d raced back to Edisto, Ginny had taken me shopping. She’d found a linen shirt for me that matched her dress, laughing that it could replace the one I’d ruined on her birthday. Together, we looked like the perfect Southern couple. I found it incredibly amusing.

  I held out my good arm. “You ready?”

  Ginny took a deep breath and nodded, taking my arm. She held onto the umbrella as I walked us around to the front and inside.

  “Aunt Emmaline?” I called as I opened the door. Ginny nervously shook out the umbrella and deposited it in the stand.

  “Evan? Oh, Evan, sweetie!” Aunt Emmaline ran out of the sitting room to envelope me in a hug. I tried not to wince. “We were so worried about you! You rushed out of here so suddenly. And then Catherine called us and told us you’d been in the hospital. We were so relieved when she said you were both fine. But Evan, honey, what happened?”

  “I know, I’m sorry, and it’s a long story. Aunt Emmaline, I want you to meet Miss Virginia Jane Eyre.”

  Ginny smiled and took my aunt’s hand. “It’s so good to meet you, Mrs. Rivers.”

  “You don’t remember this, but we’ve actually met before. Your mama and I have been good friends for a long time. I came up to visit not long after you and your brother were born. I was at his funeral, too. You’ve turned into a lovely woman, Ginny.”

  Ginny blushed, and Aunt Emmaline pulled her into a hug.

  “Mama? What’s going on?”

  “Susanna honey, tell your father to come down. Evan’s home!”

  Susanna came down, followed by Mr. Rivers. Then Susanna called Remy to come over, and before long, it had turned into a lunch party. As I’d expected, Ginny was a hit. Susanna and Remy were back together, too. We ate, we talked, and eventually talk turned to what had happened when I left.

  Ginny and I shared the story, tag teaming through so we each covered the parts we knew best. Everyone was both horrified and proud of us.

  “Ginny, you’re going to have to keep a really good eye on this boy of yours,” Remy commented afterwards. “The girls are going to be lining River Street now he’s got those scars!”

  Susanna hit him, but they all laughed as she turned back to me. “When do the stitches come out?”

  “Another week.” I’d already gotten the ones out of the smaller cut, but the first had been so much deeper that it’d needed longer. “And I’m counting the days. They itch like nothing else!”

  Mr. Rivers spoke up. “And the shoulder?”

  “It’ll be a few weeks still, until I can start physical therapy, sir.”

  He nodded. “Well, I think I speak for us all when I say how glad I am that you’re both all right. It must have been a harrowing experience.”

  I nodded. “It was. But I’d do it again.” I took Ginny’s hand and kissed it, and the talk moved on to other things.

  I wrapped my arm around Ginny’s waist and kissed her head. “I’d say you were a hit.”

  She sank back into me. We’d wandered out into the backyard after dinner. Rivers Manse had an amazing view of the Savannah River, and Ginny was staring
out over it, watching the riverboats.

  “They’re really wonderful, Evan.”

  I leaned over and kissed her neck. “Why do I get the idea that you’re not happy, then?”

  She shook her head and then sighed into my kiss. “I am happy.”

  “But something’s bothering you.”

  “I was just thinking that in a month, I’ll be in North Carolina, and you’ll be here.”

  I kissed up her neck to the back of her jaw, letting my lips trail along her skin. “It’s only five hours. It’s not a bad drive.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just…”

  “I know.” I nibbled on her ear, and she chuckled.

  “Lord, I hate you.”

  “That’s not what you were just saying.”

  “Tease.”

  “Oh no. I fully plan to make good on this,” I mumbled into the underside of her jaw. “Also, I haven’t had a chance to tell you what I did while I was down here before.”

  “You mean besides discovering you were one of Savannah’s own?”

  I laughed. “Yes, besides that.”

  She bit her lip as my fingers slipped across her stomach.

  “I did a little college touring. I even visited UNC.”

  Ginny spun around to face me. “You mean…”

  “I’m applying for the winter/spring term.”

  “Lord almighty, Evan Rochester, if you’re yankin’ my chain, I swear I will knock you so hard you’ll see tomorrow today!” She kissed me hard, pulling away before I could really get into it.

  “I’m not guaranteed to get in. But my grades are respectable, and I’m going to spend the next month brushing up on my SAT studying.”

  “I know, but, Evan, honey, that’s… Lord, I love you.”

  I took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her again. She didn’t pull away this time. Instead, she smiled against my lips, parting her own as my tongue grazed along them. My hand cupped the back of her jaw, drawing her to me. The restriction of my injured arm annoyed me. We’d managed well enough until now, but standing here in the shadows of Rivers Manse, I wanted more. And judging by the way Ginny’s hands clutched at my shirt and the way her tongue slid along mine, pushing in time with our heartbeats, she wanted it too.

  My fingers knotted in her hair and pulled her away a fraction. Just enough to speak, if I could just catch my breath.

  “Upstairs. My room.”

  Her eyes flicked to mine, honey-gold staring at me through red lashes lit by the moon. She nodded sharply and tugged me towards the house so fast I nearly tripped in the darkness. Her enthusiasm made me smile as much as it made my body flush with heat. By the time we pushed into my room, I was burning through with the need to touch her, to kiss her, to make her as completely mine as I already was hers.

  “Help me get this thing off.”

  Her lips crawled over my jaw, not helping. “But sugar, your shoulder…”

  “I don’t give a fuck about my shoulder.”

  She stared at me and smiled, her eyes bright and lips red and swollen. Fingers tore at the Velcro that bound my sling against me until finally it fell away and I was free. Free to reach for her, free to hold her. And I did. I ignored the pain that lanced through my shoulder, winced as my hands flexed around the curves of her hips. But there was no knowing if the groan that rolled out from deep in my chest was from the pain or the pleasure as her body slammed against mine and we kissed again.

  Our clothing fell away in a blur. Ginny pulled my shirt off, dropping it to the floor. A flick of my fingers, and her dress followed. Shoes and pants gone as my hands skimmed over her body, barely touching skin.

  The bed stopped us, but only briefly. And then she was under me, and there was nothing between us. The pain and stiffness in my shoulder didn’t matter. Ginny was all that mattered. My lips on her skin, her hands all over me. There was only the heat of us, the press of her body against mine, our breath and need and that final moment where there was nothing in the universe but her and me and that screaming, aching release. Especially when she was screaming my name.

  Lying there after, the sweat cooling on our tangled bodies, both of us slowly drifting off to sleep, I realized it.

  I was finally home.

  Acknowledgements

  It’s impossible to thank everyone who makes a book happen. From start to finish, it’s a labor of love, and as much as we authors sometimes feel alone, the truth is that we are absolutely not. From critique partners to beta readers to people we brainstorm with, online and real-life friends, and everyone who goes into the actual production process, we’re surrounded by helping hands, people pushing us and pushing our stories.

  Thank you to Kat Ellis, who first gave me the idea of making Eyre House a redux, and who pestered me until I had a draft to send her. Also for all the gchats and brain picking and general crit partner amazingness (including red penning my synopsis to death).

  Thank you to Erica Chapman, who liked it so much she insisted I send her chapters as I finished them.

  Thank you to Leigh Ann Kopans, who brainstormed parallels with the original Jane Eyre, helped me figure out Bertha Mason, insisted I never give up, called me even when I didn’t want her to, and slapped me when I didn’t believe in myself. Eyre House would still be sitting on my hard drive if not for her. Feel free to blame her for the interruptus scene.

  Thanks to Angi Black, who helped this wayward Northern Virginian to straighten out her Southernisms. I’d be lost without Becca Weston’s copy editing skills, or Jamie Grey, who loved it from the start, kept pushing me to find the perfect cover (and cover artist), and tag-teamed my revisions with Leigh Ann.

  I have too many critique partners and betas to even remember how many of you read Eyre House in its infancy, but you know who you are, and I love you all. Bridget, my speed-reader. Marieke, who does the most amazing (and terrifying) critiques. Jani, who helped early on with voice. Dahlia, for making me make it creepier, gushing over the setting, and for letting me use her Vacation of Northern Aggression photos (yes, that’s one of hers on the back cover).

  Laura, Darci, Chessie, Megan, Tristina, Rachel, Juliana, Cate, Jenny, and Heather, who begged to read and then gushed all over it. To Tam, who emailed me notes as she was reading, so that I could edit on the fly, and for every email we’ve sent back and forth.

  I can’t forget Ashley, my first crit partner, one of the few people who have read everything I’ve written, and who was there for me before I really knew what I was doing.

  Thank you to the YA Misfits, for wanting me to join them, and getting me through the tough times. You girls rock.

  Thank you to my mother, who will probably never read this, but who has supported me through all of it—the writing, the rejection, and who’s reaction to my decision to self publish was, “It’s about time!” Love you, Mom.

  And of course, to my baby sis Laura Whitaker. You believed in me before I knew what I was doing. Thank you.

  Lastly, to everyone who has read or will read, or who left a comment on a blog or message board or contest. I wouldn’t be here without you.

  About the Author

  Cait writes Young Adult and New Adult stories that range from sci-fi and fantasy (because she loves making worlds and things up), to contemporary (because she kind of sort of fell into it and discovered she’s not half bad). Her best friends growing up were the combined works of Robin McKinley, Madeline L’Engle, Anne McCaffrey, Andre Norton, and too many others to mention.

  She drives a Jeep, loves the outdoors, takes pictures of everything she can, and writes obsessively. A martial artist and a former teacher, Cait is owned by two cats who started out incredibly small, and are now incredibly huge.

  Cait currently live in the mountains of Utah, but Virginia will always be home.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for EYRE HOUSE

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

 
; Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Back Cover